A Child of Secrets Page 3

  ‘Oh, what does it matter?’ Lily cried. ‘Eliza can clean it up. At least I made Gyp stay downstairs.’

  ‘Then I suppose I must be grateful for small mercies. I despair of you, Lily. When will you learn that you’re a young lady and not a hoyden?’

  ‘I was in a hurry to see how my foundling was. When I saw the curtains open I—’

  ‘She’s hardly a foundling,’ Miss Peartree objected.

  ‘I found her, didn’t I?’ The pert retort was tempered by a smile so sweet that Miss Peartree only shook her head indulgently and removed her spectacles to polish them on a handkerchief.

  Lily swirled back towards the bed, pausing midway to stare at Jess. By daylight Lily was even prettier than she had looked in the dusk, a girl on the verge of womanhood, skin white and fine on a heart-shaped face blessed with dark brows and curving pink mouth; hair black and glossy, rioting with a curl that owed nothing to heated tongs. Even so, her beauty was fatally flawed. Jess hadn’t imagined those extraordinary eyes, one blue and one brown. It wasn’t natural to have such eyes.

  Jess had once seen another creature so afflicted – a stray cat that had come scavenging in Salt’s Yard. Its fur had been part black and part white, and its eyes had been odd, one tawny and one milky blue. The boys had cornered it and beaten it to death with sticks and stones, calling it a devil’s creature. Nobody had tried to stop the killing – there’d been only relief when the thing was dead and thrown in the Fleet for the tide to take.

  But, strangely, it wasn’t fear that Jess felt now. It was pity. For what she read in Lily’s sadly mismatched eyes was uncertainty – a lonely soul crying out for help: despite all her privileges of birth and upbringing, something deep and dreadful gnawed at Lily Victoria Clare. Jess sensed it as surely as she sensed when the wind changed, or the temperature dropped below freezing. It made her want to reach out and offer comfort.

  But the moment darted away as Lily tilted her head and smiled a gay smile. ‘Welcome to Hewing rectory, my foundling.’

  ‘Lily…’ Miss Peartree objected.

  ‘Oh, stuff. Cousin Oriana! I’m only teasing. She doesn’t mind. Do you?’ Taking the answer as spoken, she went on, eyes sparkling, ‘But we can’t go on calling you “Mysterious Stranger”. What’s your name?’

  ‘That—’ Her voice cracked on the word and she cleared her throat, trying again. ‘That’s Jess, miss. Jessamy.’

  ‘Jessamy!’ The strange eyes widened, brimming with delight, though she wasn’t poking fun, she was more excited and intrigued. ‘That’s unusual. Most unusual. Did you hear that, Cousin Oriana? Her name is Jessamy. Isn’t that pretty?’ She turned again to the bed, saying eagerly, ‘It’s a gypsy name, isn’t it? I guessed that—’

  ‘Gypsy? Lord, no, miss!’ The notion horrified and insulted Jess. ‘Not as I know of, altogether.’

  Lily seemed disappointed. Her pink underlip thrust out in a pout. ‘Are you sure? I was sure I’d seen you last summer, at the camp on the beach lane. Wasn’t it you?’

  ‘No, miss.’ Jess shook her head. ‘That weren’t me. I’ve never been this way afore.’

  ‘The gypsies come here every few years,’ Lily said, unwilling to let go of her theory. ‘Don’t they, Cousin Oriana?’

  ‘So I believe, my dear,’ Miss Peartree said, taking her arm, gently easing her towards the door. ‘Now come, we both have things to do, and our guest must have her rest.’

  ‘But I wanted to know—’ Lily began.

  ‘I’m sure. And I’m sure she will tell us, all in good time.’

  Did Jess imagine it, or was there a hint of warning in the mild look behind the spectacles? Warning, and suspicion? Well, she couldn’t blame Miss Peartree, who knew nothing about her save that she was a ragged, starving urchin found wandering the woods. They’d already been uncommonly kind, taking her in, giving her this lovely room and bed, and feeding her. Out of Christian charity, no doubt – this was a rectory, after all.

  But, as Jess had reason to know, an outward show of religious belief didn’t always guarantee an inner glow of Christian charity. Preacher Merrywest had taught her that.

  A cold finger of memory made her shiver and cower down into the warmth of the bed, while the tasty breakfast turned to bile in her stomach. She was thankful that neither Lily nor Miss Peartree knew the truth about her. She must keep it that way, until she found a means of leaving.

  Two

  Sitting by the fire in the drawing room, with Gyp’s weight warm across her lap, Lily tried to read, but the light had grown so poor that she could no longer make out the words. More snow was falling, the clouds closing down to bring an early twilight. With a sigh, Lily put aside her book.

  The rectory was a gloomy place, surrounded by towering elms and great laurel hedges which blocked out much of the light even on the brightest day. Sometimes Lily felt the need to hide amid the house’s shadows; at other times, when she was plagued with restless longings, she was driven to escape, to go walking for miles through the woods to work off her feelings. Yesterday had been one of those ‘other times’. She had needed to be occupied, to give her mind something other to do than brood. That was why she’d been singing, and acting out Shakespeare, though, her mood being what it was, she’d found herself reciting a speech put into the mouth of the lovelorn Juliet. All on account of…

  Oh, why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?

  Grabbing Gyp up in her arms, she wrenched herself to her feet, thinking that she would go mad if the thoughts didn’t stop. What could provide a distraction? Then she remembered the girl who lay upstairs. Poor lost Jess.

  Lonely and vulnerable herself, Lily empathised with all God’s weakest creatures. She had tended birds with broken wings, rescued an injured hedgehog, made pets of farmyard cats. She adored her darling Gyp, a gift from a parishioner whom Reverend Clare had not liked to offend by refusing to take the puppy. And now there was Jessamy.

  She glanced across the room to where Miss Peartree was resting on the chaise longue, feet up and a shawl draped across her. Her eyes were closed and she was snoring loudly, sound asleep.

  ‘Hush, Gyp,’ Lily breathed. ‘Hush. Good boy.’ Setting him down on the rug, she straightened, holding her breath as her petticoats rustled. But Cousin Oriana remained oblivious, even when Lily crept from the room and quietly closed the door.

  As she climbed the stairs, moving softly on slippered feet, she heard a sound from above. Gaining the upper hall, she stopped in surprise as she saw Eliza Potts by the door of the guest room. Lily had the distinct impression that the maid had just stealthily closed the door behind her.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she hissed, and the maid jumped visibly, turning a startled face. Caught out in something, Lily felt sure. ‘Didn’t Miss Peartree tell you to leave our visitor to sleep?’

  ‘I was… I was a-goin’ to light the lamp, Miss Lily. Thought as how the poor soul might be frit if she woke up all alone in the dark.’

  As she moved closer, Lily saw how the maid shrank away, her right hand going behind her back as if to hide something. Lily’s suspicions bristled – she’d never trusted Eliza. ‘What have you there? What are you hiding?’

  ‘Nothin’, miss. Nothin’ at all.’ Wide-eyed, the maid displayed her hand, spreading her fingers to show she was concealing nothing.

  Feeling uncomfortable and foolish, Lily dismissed her and watched as Eliza dipped the merest of curtseys and backed away, keeping her eyes on Lily’s face until she reached the door to the back stairs.

  Lily shook herself, shrugging off her feelings of disquiet. She simply could not bring herself to like Eliza; that was all it was.

  The guest room was lit by dim daylight, huge goose-feathers of snow brushing silently past the window. The lamps had not been lit, so perhaps Eliza had not been in the room – unless she had had another purpose than lighting the lamp. Jess was asleep, twitching restlessly. As Lily watched, she turned over, dislodging the covers from one shoulder and muttering something incohere
nt. Softly, Lily pulled the blankets up and tucked them round again, as she might have done for a child.

  In a jar on the mantel reposed some long spills, one of which Lily lit from the fire and used it to light a lamp. The green glass shade shed a sickly light over the sleeper. Lily had at first taken her for a child of about fourteen, though now it was clear she was at least Lily’s age, perhaps older. But she was all skin and bone. Her long, straggly hair was still matted with mud, thanks to Eliza Potts’s carelessness, and her hands and face were badly scratched…

  Who was she? Where had she come from?

  ‘No!’ The denial was spoken so loudly that Lily stepped back, startled. Was the sleeper about to awake? But no, she was soundly asleep, moving her head from side to side, her face contorted as if she were in pain. ‘Oh, no…’ This time it was a moan. ‘Oh, dear Lord. Please. No!’ Agitated, Jess thrashed her head, tossed off the covers, turned over. ‘No. Oh, no. Don’t!’ Then, ‘Mother!’ the desolate cry wailed out. She threw herself on to her back, opening her eyes to stare in confusion at Lily.

  Lily’s pulses were jumping, mimicking the fear she had sensed in the sleeper. Heart thumping wildly in her throat, she said, ‘It’s all right. It’s only me – Lily Clare. You were dreaming. Bad dreams?’

  Jess licked her lips, croaking, ‘Yes.’

  ‘What were they about?’

  But Jess shook her head. ‘Can’t remember. Gone now.’

  * * *

  The dreams had been terrible bad and the terror of them lingered. Nor was it all dream. Some of it had been memory. Now, woken by sheer fright, she was confused, trembling and sweating, her mind filled with visions of blood.

  As the images faded, she realised she was all wrung out, weak as watered gruel. She didn’t know where she was, except that it was a place she didn’t know, and standing over her was a beautiful girl holding a green-shaded lamp. Jess had seen her somewhere before. Something about those eyes…

  Seeking comfort, her fingers crept to find the thread she’d tied around her neck, with the wedding band on it. It was her talisman, her lucky piece. But she couldn’t feel its small weight anywhere, and when she felt further she realised the thread itself wasn’t there any more.

  The ring was gone!

  She half sat up, her head swimming as she patted frantically about her throat and chest, not believing that she could have lost her only treasure, her only means of support, all she had left in the world…

  ‘What is it?’ Lily asked.

  ‘My ring. The wedding ring that was round my neck.’

  ‘Hush. Don’t distress yourself.’

  ‘But it’s gone! Oh, no… oh, no!’

  Lily set down her lamp and poured water from the carafe on the night table. ‘Here, take some of this.’ She sat beside Jess, helping her sip the water, remembering Eliza Potts skulking on the landing. ‘We’ll find your ring, don’t worry. I believe I know where it might be.’

  The liquid slid down, cool and quenching, sending bad memories further away. But Jess couldn’t think clearly. She was burning up. Her whole body felt slippery and the flannel nightgown was damp with her sweat.

  Lily felt the heat radiating at her. Putting aside the tumbler, she laid a cool hand to the dewed forehead and caught her breath. ‘You’re ill! Lie down, now. I shall send for the doctor.’

  ‘No!’ Jess clawed weakly at her arm, protesting. ‘No, don’t get nobody. I’m all right. That’s nothin’.’ She didn’t want a doctor. Doctors might ask too many questions. Doctors might lead to enquiries, police visits, arrests…

  ‘Don’t argue with me,’ Lily answered. ‘If I say you shall have the doctor then you shall have the doctor. I’ll send for him at once.’

  * * *

  In the days that followed Lily was seldom far from the sick room. She tended Jess herself, helping her take sips of water, easing spoonsful of slop into her, sitting with her half the night and even sponging the patient down. She didn’t trust the maid to do the job properly. Eliza seemed to resent the cuckoo that had flown into her nest and lodged there, causing all manner of extra work. Besides which, Lily suspected that it had been Eliza who took Jess’s ring. But when Lily asked about it Eliza denied ever having seen any ring.

  Lily was horrified to discover bruising on Jess’s body, which Eliza had failed to tell her about. When Dr Michaels came again, she drew his attention to the marks and he sent her to fetch Cousin Oriana, with whom he had a long, serious conversation that Lily was not allowed to hear. Afterwards, they told Lily that Jess had been badly beaten, more than once, over months. It made her feel all the more protective.

  ‘Don’t know why you’re botherin’, Miss Lily,’ Eliza remarked one day as they changed the patient’s nightgown yet again. ‘You’ll get no thanks for it.’

  ‘I don’t expect thanks,’ Lily said quellingly.

  ‘Just as well.’

  ‘Why, what do you know about it?’

  Eliza shrugged. ‘I know her sort. Born to badness, this mawther. She’re a runaway. Might as well let her die. What’ve she got to live for?’

  ‘I shall give her something to live for,’ Lily replied. ‘Oh… be more gentle! You’re hurting her. Here, let me.’ She pushed the maid aside, feeling her flinch away from the contact. ‘Go and… go and make a pot of tea. I’m thirsty.’ Sensing the maid’s hesitation, she flung round to glare at her in sudden temper. ‘Now, Eliza!’

  The maid paled visibly, staring at Lily’s face, her glance darting uneasily from blue eye to brown and back again, as if afraid their bright regard might bewitch her. ‘Don’t you lay your spells on me!’ she choked, backing away towards the door. She flung up her hand, making a strange sign as if to ward Lily off while she backed towards the door, her free hand fumbling behind her for the door knob.

  When she had gone, Lily remained where she was, trembling. Something welled up inside her, escaping in a sound between a sob and a snort. That stupid woman! Stupid, superstitious…

  All her life, Lily had been the victim of ignorance and prejudice. Name-calling was the least of the assaults she had borne from other children. Few people were able to look into her eyes without displaying some flicker of revulsion, or fear, or distaste. Even the bishop, meeting her for the first time, had gone pale and covertly crossed himself.

  In company she made herself put on a bold face, smiling in order to disguise the pain. But it didn’t help. Rejection still hurt. Every time. She had learned to seek solace in her own company, in secret places where she could hide away and dream her dreams, building a make-believe life where miracles might happen and no one would ever dare be cruel to her again. But she couldn’t hide away all the time.

  ‘Please, miss.’ Behind her, Jess shivered. ‘I’m cold.’

  Instantly, Lily forgot her own troubles. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. How thoughtless of me. Of course…’ She made haste to pull down the nightgown over Jess’s feet and replace the covers, tucking them round the shivering body. Then she sat beside Jess, looking into a face grown frighteningly thin and wan, shadowed with violet. But for the first time in days the great whisky-brown eyes were lucid.

  ‘Why… you have lovely eyes,’ Lily said softly.

  Jess stared at her, so weak that tears welled up and dripped down her temples even as she tried an unsteady smile.

  ‘It’s true,’ Lily said, stroking back the damp, tumbled hair, feeling a brow that was cool at last, the fever gone.

  For a moment she had envied Jess her lovely eyes, but only for a moment. Everything else about the girl was nondescript. Her hair was lank and rat-coloured, her hands calloused and hardened by menial work. And yet, contrarily, it was Jess who was regarding Lily with compassion.

  Compassion. Not fear or loathing, not superstitious awe, just a soft, friendly sympathy.

  ‘Don’t mind that warmint Eliza,’ she croaked.

  Lily felt something give inside her, a long-locked door springing open as if forced. Hardly able to breathe for fear of dispersing the mom
ent of empathy, she managed, ‘You heard?’

  ‘Some on it,’ Jess admitted. ‘That seem as how I bin driftin’, in an’ out. Like scum on the tide.’

  Lily’s tears blinded her. ‘You’re safely ashore now. You’re back with us. Thank God.’ She dashed her tears away and got to her feet, going to stir up the fire and add more coal, building it into a blaze. ‘I sent Eliza to make some tea. Do you feel well enough to drink a cup of tea, if we make it very weak, with lots of milk and sugar? Cousin Oriana says sugar’s good for restoring energy. Oh…’ Feeling elated and ready for anything, she flung out her arms and whirled round, letting her skirts fly. ‘And then we’ll talk, Jessamy. We’re going to be friends, you and I. Aren’t we? Oh, do say we shall be friends!’ She rushed back to the bed, looking down anxiously into the pale face and bewildered brown eyes. ‘Jessamy?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Lily,’ came the faint answer at last, ‘we’ll be friends. Long as we can.’

  ‘For ever, Jessamy,’ Lily vowed, overcome with emotion. She had found a kindred spirit. A soulmate. Lily would bind her close with silken ties of love and mutual affection, much as she had done with Gyp. For the first time in her life Lily would have a real, true, human friend.

  * * *

  Lying staring at the fire, late into the night, Jess wondered if real friendship was possible between two girls as different as herself and Lily. It was a wholly wondersome idea, but surely too many things stood between them – their difference in station, in education… and there was Jess’s history. She was a wrong ’un, altogether. How could she ever be a friend to someone as sweet and good as Lily Clare?

  Her memory of the last few days was a confused blur, drifting between horrors imagined and horrors remembered, sometimes aware of the people around her, sometimes not. But instinct had told her when Lily was nearby – she had sensed the tender undertow of her concern, and her gentle hands had felt very different from the rough treatment meted out by Eliza Potts. From the maid, Jess sensed only hostility; Eliza was all blank walls and bristles. But what flowed from Lily was warmth and a genuine, unselfish kindness. It had reached even through Jess’s worst nightmares and calmed her; she’d always been aware when Lily came into the room.